Blood of Atlantis
by The Wild Stark
Summary: Cast out of Hogwarts Salazar Slytherin seeks out the lost knowledge of Merlin and discovers the origins of British Wizardry.
1. Chapter 1

In the far north of Albion where the land meets the western sea a spur of land juts out into the waves, its name: Cape Wrath. Surrounded by mist and wind this promontory is as far from civilisation as can be. At the tip of Cape Wrath, beyond the last cliff there stands a rock and on this rock there is a tower.

In the depths of winter an old man climbs the stair cut into this rock to reach the base of the tower. His beard streams in the wind and his cloak snaps around him as he fights to make his ascent. After what seems to him an eternity he finds himself at the base of the tower. Around him the seas boil as the storm continues to rage.

Three times he circles it clockwise and then he stops and reaches out to the stone, pressing his hand against the jagged rock he slowly pulls his arm across the surface and leaves a smear of red. The blood darkens and disappears, then with a boom of thunder lightning strikes the towers peak and an archway appears before him. Slowly he steps into the darkness and mutters into his beard, with a hiss off steam his cloths dry.

Neither boat nor broom can take a man to the rock, only those who dive from the Cape and brave the waters of the Atlantic may climb the stair. Drier, if not warmer, the man turns and begins to make his way up the spiralling stair of the tower. Slowly he moves the the blackness until a trapdoor of glowing silver creeps into sight. The man reaches out to the trapdoor and touches a finger to it. His body tenses and he to glows silver, he takes a breath and then his deep voice booms out, "I am Slaenjr Sylthjorsson, Lord of Syltherland and in my veins flow the Blood of Atlantis. I have passed through wind and water to stand here. Open!"

He gives the door a push and his hand passes through it, not missing a beat he continues his ascent through the silver trapdoor and into the top of the tower to find himself on a circular walkway, perhaps two feet wide and inscribed in ogham runes. In the centre of the room there is a pool filled with silver liquid flickering with light and shadow. Carved into the edge of the pool there is a seat containing a skeleton holding a staff.

Slaethnjr eyes the pool warily and then, as if to convince himself, he speaks to the skeleton, "Long have I studied your secrets Lord Myrddin and in your teachings I found the guidance that lead me down this path but now I have been cast from my own home and seek the last of your secrets that I might use the to reclaim Hogwarts."


	2. Chapter 2

Taking a deep breath Slaethnjr knelt by the pool, knowing that he was almost certainly the first wizard to enter this room since Myrddin himself had chosen this as his final resting place. Rowena would have loved this if it was what he thought. The markings around the pool were a more intricate version of those carved on a pensieve. Gently lowering a long finger to touch the surface he exhaled slowly and lent into the pool.

Recovering from the usual disorientation he found himself looking down on a landscape far below him. Slaethnjr glanced around him expecting to see the legendary figure of Myrddin Wyllt but saw nothing but cloud and sky. Puzzled he attempted to stand up but found himself unable to move. T

hen a voice echoed around him, "Why have you disturbed my rest?" Glancing around for the source of the sound he still saw nothing. He heard a snort of amusement but prepared this time realised that it seemed to originate in his mind.

"Good!" said the voice, "I do speak with you through the mind although rather than my speaking in your mind it is you who has entered mine. When at the end of my long life I considered myself to have achieved all that I could of my aims I sought out this tower to live out my days. Having created my final enchantment, the Interdict of Merlin, to prevent our kind from causing their own destruction I intended to put as much of my accumulated knowledge as the Interdict allows into writing before the end of my days. For fourteen years that was my purpose and then, one day, I finished, but only a fraction of my wisdom could be written.

My greatest success, the spell of binding, was intended to prevent those who were unworthy from gaining access to the great magics. All great magics must but passed from one living mind to another or disappear from this world. Knowledge has always been my greatest weakness and so I could not bring myself to wait quietly for the darkness when much of what I knew would be lost with me. Intending to leave behind myself sufficient memories to guide future generations to discovering great magics for themselves a crafted the pool of memories and hoarded my memories in it. Unable to control myself I transferred ever more of myself to the pool, until in the end my body was but an empty husk while my consciousness survives here."

"That is where we are now?" Slaethnjr queried.

"It is. Though I am but a caretaker for the world of the pool. With true understanding of the nature of memory and thought a pensieve does not just portray memories but can arrange them to show an entire world. In this pool the entirety of my life is stored but so too are the lives of many others. From my earliest memories to the time of the Interdict every memory, every person and every event is stored. In here you can observe the entirety of Britain and Ireland for the hundreds of years of my life."

Even as these last words echoed through his mind his surroundings changed and he found himself standing in a primitive village. Once more Myrddin's voice resonated through the memories, "This is my earliest memory, it is the year 1160 from the founding of Rome. You are in the village of Amlwch on the northern coast of Wales, I had just turned seven. It was also the year that the Romans withdrew from Britain."

Slaethnjr turned on the spot to examine the village around him. The buildings were all newly thatched roundhouses and the rising sun shone of the straw roofs. Directly ahead of him was a gate in the palisade that surrounded the settlement, a lone watchman paced along the wall. All was quiet. Slowly he walked over to a tree stump and sat down, when a flicker of movement caught his eye.

The watcher on the wall was bent over on his knees. Seconds later the gate opened and the air was filled with yells. Armed men were streaming in, massive war hounds running by their sides. The men shouted war cries as they came, in a tongue similar to the Gaelic of the highland Scots who inhabited parts of Sutherland. Already the nearest huts were going up in flames. Two men and a child came running out of the hut closest to Slaethnjr.

The oldest man, half dressed and holding a spear turned to the younger man and spoke urgently to him. Straining his ears over the sound of battle around him Slaethnjr heard the older man speak in the language of Wales, "Caradog take your brother and hide him somewhere." Turning to the child he said "Myrddin, go with Caradog and hide. Do not leave your hiding place until everything is quiet."

Not waiting for a response the older man lifted his spear and ran towards a group of villagers who were resisting the invaders. The young man, Caradog, grabbed the child by the arm and started dragging him away. Slaethnjr looked at the battle around him; about half the huts were burning and the villagers were clearly losing so he followed the pair. Running so as not to lose sight of them as they turned a corner he saw the smaller boy being lifted up into a hayloft near the edge of the settlement.

Slowing as he reached the building he heard the smaller boy speak, "I don't want to hide Caradog; I want to see what's happening. What is happening?" Caradog glanced up from a pile of tools stacked against the wall of the barn, "The Irish have come, and they'll burn the village and enslave anyone they find. Stay in the barn Myrddin, hide in the hay. I'll come and get you when it's safe."

Picking a pitchfork out of the pile Caradog ran towards the burning huts. He quickly disappeared from view. Slaethnjr lifted himself into the loft and saw that Myrddin was wriggling himself into a hole in the hay. From this height Slaethnjr was able to watch as the last villagers were overwhelmed. Already the raiders were sheathing their weapons and gathering items of value.

Over by the gate he saw a new man arrive. Clad in grey and cloaked in black, this man was clearly the leader of the raiders, snapping orders to men either side of him. He was tall and thin, with a grey hair and a beard that he had tucked into his belt. As Slaethnjr watched he saw the man stop in front of an unburnt building, raised his hands as if to embrace it and then began to chant. Quickly the chant rose to a shriek and then the hut before the man burst into flames. Famed for his intelligence and cunning Slaethnjr quickly realized that this was an Irish druid, though rare in his time they must be near the height of their powers in the memory.

Distracted by the druid he flinched as a torch was thrown into the hayloft, before remembering that he was in a memory. Myrddin on the other hand was in danger, turning to see how the boy would react Slaethnjr found him curled up in a ball in his hiding place. Another torch was thrown into the barn and the hay went up in flames almost instantly. Feeling slightly unsettled as he walked through the flames unscathed Slaethnjr jumped down from the loft seconds before the barn collapsed to find the men who had set light to the barn staring slack-jawed at the remains of the barn. As he turned to face the barn he Slaethnjr heard one of the men cry out in Irish "Téigh agus beir Tadg!*"

As he faced the remains of the burning barn he saw that Myrddin was still curled up and alive was in the centre of the flames. The druid arrived seconds later to see Myrddin crawl out of the flames unscathed. The deep harsh voice of the druid rang out in Irish "The child is not to be harmed, he is under my protection. Bind him and put him with the other prisoners."

*Run and fetch Tadg!

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

Before anyone starts telling me that my names are wrong etc. it's entirely intentional. As a historian I hate inaccuracy and so for the purposes of my story I'm assuming that the names of the founders and of Merlin were changed as they were used over the generations. So the same way as Mark Antony was called Marcus Antonius (and there were no Romans called Mark running around) I've decided to assume that the names of historical witches and wizards have been adapted to suit modern English by the 20th century. Also I have made revisions to the first chapter to correct the names.

So for historically accurate names:

- Salazar Slytherin is called Slaethnjr Suðrland, which is a Norse-style name because at the time hogwarts was founded (early around 1000 CE) northern Scotland was ruled by the Vikings. Slytherin is a corruption of Suðrland which is the Norse name of County Sutherland in Scotland, and of which he is the Lord and where Hogwarts is.

- Myrddin Wyllt is the earliest recorded name of Merlin, and is a Brythonic name.

- Tadg is an Irish name and is pronounced like tied but with a 'g' instead of the 'd'.


	3. Chapter 3

Slaethnjr was not a young man, even by wizard standards, and had done a great deal in his the life but was currently having what may have been the strangest experience to date. It had started when the Irish raiding party had left the village on horseback. The druid had slung Myrddin over the front of his horse and rode out of the village with some haste.

Worried that he would miss something he ran after the druid and found that he could easily catch up and then outrun the horse. Since he couldn't injure himself in a memory he had then carried out a series of tests. The results of the test had led him to conclude that as an observer he couldn't interact with anything but neither could anything in the pensieve affect him. To test this he had jumped over a twenty-five foot tree and held his breath for twelve minutes.

The conclusion he had come to was that his only limits were within his mind and that he could overcome these in time. Despite repeated attempts he hadn't managed to move through anything solid yet, it seemed his mind would not comprehend his findings and therefore he had spent the best part of the journey from the village walking into trees.

The raiders had made for a nearby bay where they had piled the captives and plunder into boats and were now rowing their way back to Ireland. Slaethnjr was currently walking alongside the druid's boat.

Walking on water was an odd experience and he hoped to share the memory with Godric in his own pensieve. Perhaps combined with a few other tricks he might be able to get muggles to worship him, after all if a wizard like Jesus of Nazareth could convince muggles to worship him a warlock such as Slaethnjr would have no trouble. Perhaps he would claim to be Loki and wander Scandinavia for a time. The novelty of walking on water wore of after a mile or two so he stepped into the boat and meditated for the rest of the journey.

When the impact of landfall startled him from his meditation he found that the raiders hadn't landed on the coast but had rowed up a river for a few miles and come ashore on the river bank opposite a small island. The raiding party was met by a small group of druids and well-dressed men who Slaethnjr guessed were nobles. The majority of the captives were turned over to the nobles and the group broke apart heading towards their own homes.

The druid from the raid, Tadg, was joined by the druids from the welcoming party and they rowed to the island. Slaethnjr watched them lift the unconscious Myrddin from the boat and then explored the island as nightfall came. He had hoped to discover something about the druids. Much of their knowledge had been lost between this time and his own; additionally the surviving knowledge was a closely guarded secret.

Slaethnjr had been intending to spend the night meditating wherever Myrddin was. As an observer his body needed food nor sleep but the constant state of wakefulness would begin to effect his mind unless he used meditation to prevent this and to allow him time to reflect on and organise the information from the memory.

As he was searching for Myrddin he heard conversation from one of the huts. Further investigation revealed a number of druids sitting in the largest roundhouse. Slaethnjr decided to listen to their conversation for a while, it would help him understand them. His Gaelic was a bit rusty and he had never learnt any of the Irish dialects.

The druid from the raid was currently being questioned by three other druids. It was difficult to tell with magical people but they appeared older than the raider. There seemed tobe some sort of dispute and the raider druid had just begun to speak, "I am aware that this is unusual but, as I have said, the incident in the barn-fire was impressive enough that I believe we should at least partially train him to see if the child is suitable. If he isn't we can use him for something else."

One of the older druids nodded once and then motioned for the other two to follow him. The last off the older druids held back a little and once the others were out of hearing range called out as he ducked out of the hut, "I don't like the idea of teaching our secrets to a Briton, but I doubt the Briton will be able to keep up. When he fails the tests I'll be waiting. One of my new spells relies heavily upon a blood sacrifice, so I'll take the boy when your proven wrong Tadg."

It was still dark when the druid, Tadg, came for Myrddin. He kicked the child awake and motioned that the boy should follow. By the light of the moon they rowed to the shore where Tadg lifted Myrddin to sit in front of him on a horse. As the night began to fade into the dark blue signalling the approach of dawn they dismounted.

By Slaethnjr's reckoning they had gone perhaps twenty-five miles, from the south bank of the river the druid had ridden parallel to the coast until they were climbing the slopes of a low mountain where they had stopped. This was the furthest mountain in the range and so had an unobstructed view on three sides. After dismounting they climbed a worn track for the last part of the journey.

Tadg turned to the small boy struggling to keep up behind him and spoke in Welsh, "Do you know why I stopped the warriors from killing you?" Looking down at his feet the child shook his head. "You did not burn when the flames engulfed you. You have within you the power of the druids. It is a rare gift and I have convinced my colleagues to let me train you. Follow me and repeat my actions."

As they reached the end of the track Slaethnjr saw a dolmen topped the crest of the hill. Tadg motioned for Myrddin to stop. The druid walked to a cracked boulder opposite the dolmen and reached into the crack. After a few seconds of rummaging around he withdrew a crude stone sword, he walked back to the dolmen and beckoned Myrddin to him. He held out his hand until the child extended his own and then took the boy's hand in his.

Raising the intertwined hands til the almost touched the stone face of the dolmen Tagd drew a deep breath before slicing across the fingers of both hand. Dropping the sword he rubbed the blood from the their cuts onto the dolmen. Where the blood first touched the stone it seemed to be absorbed. Slowly as though the stone were linen, the blood from the contact spread until all the rock was scarlet.

After a few seconds the dolmen seemed to grow until the pair stood before a giant rectangle hewn from the granite of the mountain. Tadg stepped into a small opening in the face of the rock and spoke to Myrddin without looking back, "You can come in, these are just the stairs to the top." The child looked around the hilltop once before he stepped into the darkness, Slaethnjr following close behind him.

The ascent was surprisingly long but when they emerged there was nothing but a rectangular area of white granite. Standing in the middle of the rectangle Tadg faced towards the east where a glow on the horizon showed the first light of dawn. The druid motioned for Myrddin to stand next to him. After a minute or two Tadg cleared his throat and began to speak.

"This is '_An suíomh ar Amergin_' or Amergin's Seat. Amergin was the first druid and it is from him that much of our learning was passed down. The power of a druid is tied to his surroundings. It is taught from one druid to the next, nothing is written down nor told to an outsider.

When the Gaels first arrived in Ireland Amergin fought a duel against the magic users of the island who he defeated. When Ireland was taken he tracked down the burial sites of the most powerful of his opponents from that battle and build the seat of stone over the grave. He beat the magic users who were here before the Gael by using their own land against them.

Most over our magic is bound in song and poem, like the chant I use to start fires. A druid learns by memorisation. You will memorise all of the fundamental prose and history, in time you will compose your own spell-songs and apprentice yourself to other druids to learn their own secrets. Today you will learn to recite the '_Aliu iath nHerend'_ the Invocation of Ireland.

This was the spell used by Amergin to win the battle for Ireland. It contains lines to allow the use of all the elements and many aspects of nature. That is why it is always taught here, both for the connection to Amergin and to the land. While you hear it try and focus on the feel of natures magic around you, from the stone of the hill to the breath of the wind. From here you can see much of what Ireland has to offer, mountain and valley, river and sea. I will recite the invocation in its entirety translating to your tongue line by line, but by the end of the day you will be able to recite it in Gaelic."

As the sun broke the horizon and the first true light of dawn shone on the seat of Amergin Tadg began. Slaethnjr moved to stand closer, he would not miss a chance to learn such lost magics, though it was not necessary as the druid began to recite in a slow deep voice.

_**Ailiu iath nhErend, **_

I invoke the land of Ireland,

_**Farraigí meargánta agus rollta, **_

Reckless and rolling seas,

_**Cnoic ag sileadh agus thorthúil, **_

Flowing and fertile hills,

_**Glas agus coillte ag fás, **_

Green and growing woods,

_**Aibhneacha Clear agus glan, **_

Clear and clean rivers,

_**Fós agus adh lochanna. **_

Still and silent lakes.

_**Agairt mé na gnéithe na hÉireann,**_

I invoke the elements of Ireland,

_**Is teolaí a tinte, **_

_**Ach tá fíochmhar na lasracha, **_

Warm are its fires,

But fierce are the flames,

_**Is milis a breezes, **_

_**Ach tá fiáin a gaotha, **_

Gentle are its breezes,

But wild are its winds,

_**Is fuar a uiscí,**_

_**Ach tá fiáin a dtonnta, **_

Cool are its waters,

But wild are its waves,

_**Tá Dark a ithreacha, **_

_**Ach tá láidir a cloiche.**_

Dark are its soils,

But strong is its stone.

* * *

><p>Author's note: Should be coming to the end of tricky languages now, as Myrddin learns Irish I'll stop using actual Irish and use English. The Invocation of Ireland is a poem attributed to the mythical druid Amergin who arrived with the Milesians (Gaels) to conquer Ireland. When the current inhabitants gathered their magicians and sent a storm to prevent the Milesians from landing Amergin used the Invocation to call upon the land of Ireland to allow the Milesian ships to land on its shores.<p>

The version used above was inspired by the real version and has a similar style, I have adapted it to suit the purposes of the story.


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